


unexpected

by Rena



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Kid!Fic, M/M, pre-slash i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 11:43:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rena/pseuds/Rena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dude,” he says wonderingly, “that’s is a baby.”<br/>“No shit, Sherlock.”<br/>“No, you don’t understand, that was a question,” Stiles says. “<i>Why</i> is there a baby?”<br/>Derek snorts. “Your eloquence never ceases to amaze – <i>don’t poke it</i>, are you <i>crazy</i>?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	unexpected

Stiles walks through the front door, keys still jingling in his hands  (shut up, it’s totally not breaking and entering when you know where the owner hides the spare key, _geez, Dad, chill_ ). Then he stops and stares with his mouth gaping open for a moment, blinks and walks right out again just to check if he got the wrong address. It could happen; Derek is horrifically bad at finding imaginative hiding places for his keys, just goes for the conventional, classic spots, so maybe Stiles just landed on the wrong floor and the old lady living above Derek just happens to use the small gap at the floor’s windowsill as well.

 _Hale_ , the name on the doorbell informs him in Derek’s ridiculously elegant handwriting, that he  did not enter the wrong apartment. He purses his lips and ventures another look inside.

The sight still hasn’t changed.

Witches, Stiles thinks, only a little panicked, and starts constructing a bullet point list of possible causes in his head. . Parallel universes. Are those real? Possibly. Hallucinations? He’s pretty sure the alcohol he drank last night has left his system by now, and he hasn’t smoked pot in a while, so unless he inhaled something on his way up – and yeah that’s always a possibility – or maybe-

“Stiles,” Derek huffs, exasperated. “You either get in here in the next two seconds or I’m gonna throw your skinny ass out on the streets.”

Stiles, because he can never leave a good mystery alone, goes in.

“Dude,” he says wonderingly, “that’s is a baby.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“No, you don’t understand, that was a question,” Stiles says. “ _Why_ is there a baby?”

Derek snorts. “Your eloquence never ceases to amaze – _don’t poke it_ , are you _crazy_?”

Within the blink of an eye, Derek has sprung approximately ten feet back, the baby carefully tucked onto his arm and safely out of Stiles’ reach. “Me?” Stiles squeaks. “ _I_ am the crazy one? _You_ have a _baby_!” He points at it accusingly. “Exhibit A. God, tell me you didn’t steal it.”

Derek’s face does a funny little waver, something between confused and hurt. “Seriously, Stiles?”

“Well, what do I know? These things don’t tend to pop up out of the blue, so clearly you got it from somewhere, since it can’t be – wait, it’s not _yours_ , is it? You didn’t knock someone up right after coming back to Beacon Hills and –“

“No, Stiles.” Thankfully, Derek interrupts him before his brain can spurt out more embarrassing theories. “It’s not mine. And I didn’t steal her either.”

“I didn’t think it was,” Stiles informs him after a beat. “It doesn’t have your eyebrows, and it looks way too cheerful.”

“It’s a girl,” Derek says coolly, “not _it_. Her name’s Trish.”

“Okay,” Stiles says. “Wanna tell me how you came by her again, if you didn’t steal her?”

The eyebrows of doom draw closer together. “She’s the daughter of one of my friends from high school,” he says stiffly. “Maria asked if I could babysit her while she and Dom are away for a business dinner.”

The names sound vaguely familiar. Stiles wrecks his brain until it supplies him with the memory of a happily newlywed couple just a couple of streets down from Scott’s place. “The Morgans?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

Well, now he feels like an asshole. He forgets, sometimes – no, all the time, actually, even though they are kind of friends now – that Derek probably wasn’t always like this, the mysterious and lonely creeper werewolf who gets almost fatally injured more often than not. That he used to be a normal high school student, probably popular with his dry humour and super werewolf skills that would’ve made him a perfect jock. In his defence, it’s kind of hard to believe it when he only ever sees Derek in life-or-death situations or when he reveals that he keeps a fucking blowtorch at his decrepit house, you know, as one does, for emergency reasons or something.

“Cool,” he says lamely.

“Yeah.” Derek shifts awkwardly as the baby – Trish, he reminds himself – bats at his biceps. “Did you need something?”

Stiles almost definitely needed something. As much as he enjoys riling Derek up, he isn’t usually stupid enough to seek him out just for the hell of it. He likes his bones intact, thank you very much. “I think I did,” he admits. “But I blew a couple of fuses in my brain seeing you hold a baby, so I can’t be held responsible for not remembering.”

Derek scoffs. “There are always a couple of fuses in your brain not working correctly. I don’t think that serves as an excuse anymore.”

“Screw you,” Stiles says, but there’s no heat in his words. It’s kind of impossible to be mad at Derek when he’s got seven pounds of fragile human snuggling against his chest and – _Jesus fucking Christ_ – nibbling on his index finger. Derek seems completely unbothered by it, just lets her curl her tiny hands around his finger and chew away at it, occasionally letting out happy gurgling sounds. Stiles has never seen Derek look less intimidating or more content, and then he fucking smiles down at Trish and Stiles thinks he might be dying, because his heart is constricting painfully in his chest.

He must’ve made some kind of sound – probably something akin to a strangled frog – and Derek looks up at him questioningly. Stiles clears his throat and tries to will away the embarrassment (because yeah that always worked so well in his past). “So,” he says, “how come you’re so good at this?”

Because Derek _is_ obviously good at it. Stiles doesn’t know shit about babies, but it’s easy to see that Derek is completely at ease and knows how to hold her both comfortably and safely. Not to mention that Trish looks absolutely enchanted. There’s zero screaming or wailing going on, which he thought was pretty standard for babies  to do – one of the many reasons he avoids them – and which he had definitely expected; Derek scares the crap out of a lot of very brave and badass people – Stiles included – so that Trish doesn’t seem to be afraid of him at all must be some sort of miracle.

Derek hesitates. “I had a lot of younger siblings and cousins,” he says eventually, quietly and grudgingly, like this is information he doesn’t feel comfortable sharing with Stiles.

And yeah, that makes sense. Stiles thinks that maybe he should just duct-tape his mouth shut so that he stops blurting out inappropriate things. Or maybe just strangle himself. “Right,” he says awkwardly, looking anywhere but Derek and whipping back and forth on his feet. “Right, so maybe I should –“ he starts trying to excuse himself and bail when Derek interrupts him.

“Do you want to hold her?”

“I – uh, what?”

Derek gives him an unimpressed look. “Do you want to hold her?”

“Me?” Stiles squeaks.

“No, the other uninvited visitor standing in my living room,” Derek deadpans. “Come here.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Stiles says even as he inches closer. Trish squeals in delight when his face comes into her field of vision. She drops Derek’s finger and reaches out for Stiles with her tiny hands, and he instantly reels backwards.

“Jesus, Stiles.” Derek rolls his eyes. “It’s a baby, not a bomb. She won’t explode when you touch her.”

“Are you sure,” Stiles demands.

“ _Yes_ , I’m sure.”

“You didn’t want me touching her before,” he points out.

“You were about to jab her into the ribs,” Derek counters. “Also, you didn’t seem afraid of touching  her before.”

“Well I wasn’t entirely convinced she was real.”

“You’re an idiot,” Derek informs him. “Now come here.”

“What if I drop her?”

“I’ll catch her,” Derek says easily, and manoeuvres her into Stiles’ arms and _boom_ , suddenly he has a tiny human being with a soft heartbeat and a toothless smile clinging to him.

Stiles freezes.

Trish gurgles.    

“ _Oh_ ,” he exhales in amazement. He’s never held a baby before. He’s never really held anything so small before, either, actually. There’s been a couple of puppies at the vet’s, but Scott usually tries to steer them clear of Stiles, because _uncoordinated_ is a generous term to describe him on his best days. Which reminds him...

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t assure me that I wouldn’t drop her.”

Derek snorts softly. “That would’ve been an impossible thing to promise, considering it’s you we’re talking about.”

“Shut up.” Trish makes grabby hands at him, and Stiles feels something flutter in his chest.

“You okay?” Derek asks.

“Yeah,” he says. “Just...I want one.”

“Heaven forbid I ever have to meet the poor kid you raise,” Derek says, but Stiles knows he’s just teasing.

“I don’t know,” he muses. “You could help.”

Derek stiffens beside him. And _oh God_ , Stiles just essentially asked him to raise children together. _Their_ children, possibly. He could probably whip out the rings and drop to his knees for a marriage proposal right now, since in his mind he bypassed everything that would even lead up to a point in the distant future where they would be standing next to each other in their shared flat with their baby in their arms. 

How is this even his life?

At least he doesn’t drop Trish despite his inner meltdown.

“Well,” Derek says after a minute of silence, voice surprisingly steady, “maybe we should wait with that until you’re out of high school. I don’t think your father would approve of you being a teenaged dad.”

Stiles almost does drop Trish at that comment. Luckily, Derek is there to pluck her out of his arms the moment she even so much threatens to slip.

“Yeah,” he agrees shakily. “High school first. Also maybe a date? Multiple dates. And sex! That’s important, right? We should have so much sex. Like, all the sex, I don’t wanna have a baby before I’m okay with being woken up by them crying in the middle of the night and having to be quiet because we don’t wanna wake them and –“

Derek stops him with a hand on his mouth. That’s probably a good thing.

“Okay,” he says simply. “Let’s do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> for Nashi aka lonewolfed, who asked for a Sterek kid!fic


End file.
